


Knots and Pins

by WindStainedDreams



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, I like making my characters suffer, Implied Torture, Poor Mal, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change, i may continue this, implied potential rape/non-con, poor Alina, poor Genya, set before chapter four of Siege and Storm, slight AU, slightly AU from just before they find the Rusalye, why are my tags out of order?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:56:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9396578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindStainedDreams/pseuds/WindStainedDreams
Summary: Genya wasn't helping her shake the emptiness, no matter how pretty she made her hair.





	

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had hoped it was a part of her past, but black draped itself over her figure in a way that made Alina feel like a prize stag put on display by its hunter. The imagery was all too vivid and she caught her fingers hovering over the antlers at her neck.

Alina let Genya twist her hair into elaborate knots and pile the strands on her head.  The beautiful Grisha was using sparkling gold pins that reminded Alina of how dull her hair had become now that she couldn’t use her powers.  Maybe they were even the same ones she and Mal had used to buy their freedom.  It would be to the Darkling’s tastes to dress her in the very things that she had used to escape him.  Could that really have been so long ago?  

 

The knock had come before dawn, and Alina had been too hollow to put up a fight as her cheeks were made rosy, her hair burnished with gold and bronze, combed, arranged.  Genya was as swift and enthusiastic as ever, covering the dark circles under Alina’s eyes, smoothing away the aches when she could.  Her Tailoring case sat on the small table in Alina’s cabin, emptier than the last time the Summoner had seen it.

 

Ivan glowered from the door, cruel and smug.  He had given up the pretense of civility days ago.  Alina was certain that if the Darkling allowed it, Ivan would be more than pleased to use Alina as he wished.  Maybe he would try something even without the Darkling’s explicit permission.  The young woman shivered, jolted roughly out of her stupor at the thought.  Genya tsked and pulled the strands she was working with back into their coil.  

 

Genya’s worn crimson _kefta_ brushed along the new black wool of the one that Alina had been given that morning.  She had hoped it was a part of her past, but black draped itself over her figure in a way that made Alina feel like a prize stag put on display by its hunter.  The imagery was all too vivid, the deep eyes of Morozova’s stag stared into her soul, and she caught her fingers hovering over the antlers at her neck.  The rasp of wool against wool was a gentle monotone as Genya worked, rocking Alina in time with the waves.  

 

The Darkling always did like her at her most beautiful before he broke her. 

 

Alina trembled at the thought of what would happen at dawn.  Every nerve aboard the whaler was frayed.  The Grisha, so sure they were superior, huddled in fear.  The crew was tense, barely hiding the hate they felt for their passengers.  Sturmhond glared balefully at the passengers, but kept a pleasant face around the Darkling.  No one but Mal would even care.

 

The early morning sun was blinding as she stumbled up the ladder behind Ivan and Alina squinted against the glare on the waves, trying to find Mal amidst the crowded deck.  Grisha swarmed the railings; the ship’s crew bustling back and forth as they listened to Sturmhond call orders based on Mal’s shouted directions.  She followed the sound of his voice and found him at the bow, surrounded by _oprichniki_ and Heartrenders.

 

Mal was tired and furious.  He could barely stand between his guards.  Alina could see the fight that raged within him, the fierce denial.  The crushing, _crushed_ hope.  The Darkling stood next to him for once.  Alina would be right next to Mal, unable to touch, powerful and powerless.  

 

Ivan was pulling her forward, only slightly less rough than usual.  The Darkling hadn’t bothered to correct his less than gentle handling before, but perhaps he'd requested her unbruised and didn't want to be bothered with Healing her before he had his fun.  Alina hesitated, dragging in a shaky breath and pulling her hands back from Ivan’s grip.  Before he could grab her, Alina stepped away from him and the hatch.  She turned to face Genya, who had followed her up the ladder. 

 

“It must be nice to wear your own colours. You’re not afraid to see the price, are you?” The older girl flinched but lifted her chin, stubborn and proud.  Alina’s voice carried over the wind the Squallers were making, the sound of waves on ice.  Genya couldn’t pretend she hadn't heard. The dig went deep, with her black-clad form going against everything that Alina was as Grisha, much as Genya’s cream and gold robes had before she earned her _kefta_.  Alina didn't bother looking at anyone, ignoring Ivan being held in check only because she wasn't running, although she could feel the squeeze on her heart, eyes focused on the sea beyond Mal as she asked, voice bleak, “One last question, _friend_.  Did you make yourself this pretty for the King?” 

 

This time Genya muffled a gasp in her palm, eyes shimmering as she looked away, but she said nothing as the Heartrender finally dragged Alina to the Darkling.  The other Grisha smirked and snickered, either at Alina or at Genya or perhaps even both of them, but some shuffled uneasily and lowered their eyes as Alina stumbled passed.  After all, if the all-powerful Sun Summoner could not resist the Darkling, who could stop him now?  

 

Her end had finally come. 

 

The Darkling’s touch on the collar around her neck made every nerve in her body shake with revulsion, even as her long-absent power sang through her and filled her with warmth.  He pulled her close, one hand caressing the small of her back as the other gripped the antlers, quartz eyes triumphant as he whispered in her ear, just loud enough for Mal to hear. 

 

“You will scream for me, Alina.  After all, I have a promise to honour.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I have not read much past the scene that initially inspired this fic, so please no spoilers in the comments. I may have more ideas to continue this but I could also leave this where it is. Please let me know what you think.


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